At his direction, she lay back in the tub as the water rose around her. She closed her eyes and sighed, her face still streaked with tears. All that fuss over a little piss. He would have to help her desensitize. She should welcome anything that was of him, even his piss.
Then there was the matter of her punishment. She had said no to him, not once, but repeatedly, and he couldn’t let that go unpunished. But she was exhausted, and the effects of the champagne still lingered in his bloodstream. There was always tomorrow.
“Clean yourself up,” he said. “Then let’s go to bed. I’ll punish you tomorrow.”
Mark had a small workroom in the cellar. He’d just finished devising his latest toy, and he was eager to try it out. He had been intending to install the new toy up in the playroom, but had decided instead to rig it down there, for a change of venue. He’d finished out a second room with carpeting and insulated walls, and he attached a pulley mechanism in the ceiling, much like the one up in the playroom, from which he hung long, sturdy chains. In the workshop, he drilled holes in either end of a long, narrow wooden beam, and he attached the beam to the chains, creating a kind of long swing.
That day, he had Alana dress in the black satin corset he’d just ordered for her from the internet, which cinched in her already long, slender waist, accentuating her hourglass figure. Her breasts were popping over the top of the corset, revealing just a hint of nipple. She wore very high red heels that accentuated her slender ankles and long, lean calves.
He led her down the stairs and into the finished room, waving toward his new toy with a flourish. “This is called a cunt tease,” he informed her proudly. “I designed it myself.”
She regarded his creation with silence, her face impassive, as it usually was when he wasn’t torturing or teasing her. He longed for that rare smile, but it hadn’t appeared in quite a while.
He might not get a smile, but he would certainly get a reaction, once he introduced her to the formidable charms of his new toy. Leaving her to stand by the door, Mark turned the pulley mechanism until the wooden beam was lowered to calf height.
He waved her over and said, “Step over the beam and straddle it.”
Alana came forward as ordered and did as he said. She looked so hot in heels and corset, her pretty, smooth cunt and legs bare.
He raised the beam until it just touched her cunt. She looked down at it, uncertainty and the beginning of fear in her lovely face. His cock hardened in anticipation.
“Raise your arms over your head,” he instructed. He attached her iron bracelets together and secured them to a chain dangling just above her. He adjusted the chain until he was satisfied that Alana could stand comfortably in her heels.
Then he began to raise the wooden beam higher, until it was wedged between her labia. “Alana,” he said. “Why do you exist?”
She answered promptly, having gone through this exercise many, many times. “To serve you, Sir.”
“And why else?”
“To suffer for you, Sir.”
He veered slightly from the usual question and answer routine. “Do you like to suffer for me, slave?”
“If it pleases you, Sir,” she said.
Would that answer ever change? Would she, someday, truly want to suffer for her Master?
He lifted the bar higher, until she was forced onto her toes, her weight was almost entirely on her splayed pussy.
“Please,” she groaned. “I can’t take this much longer. It really, really hurts.”
“Sure you can. We’re only just getting started. But here, this should distract you.” He withdrew a vibrating egg from his pocket. He lowered the beam just enough so he could wedge the small toy between her sex and the beam. Pressing a switch on the remote, Mark turned on the egg, which made a humming sound as it began vibrating between the wood and her body.
He pulled out the clover clamps and approached her, yanking down the satin cups of her corset to expose her breasts. Mark pressed one clip open, and holding out her nipple, he let it close. As she gasped, he did the same with the second nipple.
Taking a step back, he used the remote to turn up the speed of the vibrating egg against her clit. He could see the sweat forming beneath her arms and along her upper lip. She began to tremble as the egg mercilessly vibrated her toward an orgasm.
“Oh, god,” she moaned, the words low and sensual in her throat. In spite of the pain, or no, perhaps because of it, she was going to come. Pleasure and pain were always offered in tandem. She was rarely permitted the one without the other. She had learned to orgasm from a crop on her cunt as easily as from his tongue or deft fingers.